


Boys Will Be Boys

by meiloslyther



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Voyeurism, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-01
Updated: 2009-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-19 10:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/572441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meiloslyther/pseuds/meiloslyther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fumbling confused boys. Things happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk and shirtless Brendon. Enough said.

Brendon was drunk and shirtless. Again.

"Come on, Ryan, it's fun!"

"I'm not taking my shirt off, Brendon."

"Puhleeease?" he pouted, batting his eyelashes at me.

Unfortunately, I was stuck with him and that stupid pouty face was more adorable than a fat kitten on catnip. On the bright side, we were alone, and I wouldn't have to deal with the guys poking fun at Brendon flirting with me.

"Fine," I replied, stripping off my t-shirt before leaning back against the couch.

He grinned and took another swig of his beer. "You're too easy."

I tried to ignore him and pay attention to the show I was watching on TV.

"Wonder what else I can make you take off?"

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head and I almost spit out my own beer all over myself. "What?"

He jumped in my lap, straddling my thighs as he breathed acrid beer breath in my face. "The pants, maybe?"

He tried to kiss me then, but I turned my head in time for him to catch my cheek. I tried to push him off, but he wouldn't budge.

"Brendon, get off."

He smirked at me. "Oh I'll get off. I'll get off all over you."

"Brendon, gross! Get off of me, you drunken charlatan."

He was stroking my chest with his godly piano hands and, sure, it felt nice, but this was NOT the way I would have liked this to go.

"Stop that."

"You know you like it," he sing-songed, lowering his eyelids and giving me one of his 'sexy' faces.

"I do not - ow!"

Grabbing his wrists, I pulled his hands away from my sensitive nipples and held them out to the sides.

"Someone's peaky!" he yelled, wiggling in my lap.

I rolled my eyes, but now that I had his hands in check, I had no way of defending myself from his mouth. Those devilish plush lips went straight for my neck, sucking hard at my jugular.

"Brendon..." I tried to make my voice sound as annoyed as possible, but that didn't work out how I had planned, considering I had a pair of very talented lips attached to my neck in a very pleasurable way. "Stop, you're... gonna give me a hickey..."

As he pulled off, he bit down on the spot he had been sucking, making me let out a very embarrassing squeak. I blushed profusely.

"Oh, so Ryan likes that, huh?" he muttered, grinning down at me before moving to my collar bone.

I was positive all the blood in my body was going to my face and I tried to keep my vocal responses to his inappropriate mouthing to a minimum. At least until he bent down to lave at my nipple, and at that point I felt the blood rush from my face to somewhere entirely different.

"Bren... I'm serious... C-cut it out..."

He worked his wrists out of my weakened grasp and moved his hands over my sides and down to my crotch, where he quickly found how much of an effect he had on me.

"Well well, looks like little Ryan doesn't think I should stop. If I were you, I'd let the kid have some fun."

"Brendon, you're drunk," I tried to reason with him as he began to undo my pants. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

He slid off my lap backwards, taking my pants with him. I didn't fight him as he pulled them completely off and went for my underwear. If he really wanted to do this, I honestly didn't mind. But god forbid if someone found out, or worse - if Brendon later thought I had raped him or some ridiculous thing. If anyone was doing the raping, it was surely Brendon, not me.

"Do you really want to do this?" I asked as he pulled my boxers off and situated himself on the floor between my knees.

He looked up at me with a devious smirk and I had to admit, seeing Brendon fucking Urie on his knees with his mouth inches away from my cock was very, if not immensely, hot.

"Oh, I do," he whispered, flicking his tongue out to tease my slit.

"Oh-okay," I gasped, and he ran his tongue all the way around the head before sucking it into his mouth.

I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he worked that sinful little tongue, massaging and sucking alternately. His eyes stayed closed for the most part, unless he was looking up at me through his bangs. One hand rested on my hip, and the other was out of sight, presumably pleasuring himself.

He finally took my whole length into his mouth and I groaned, fisting a hand in his silky hair.

"Christ...," I whispered as he continued to use his tongue as his head bobbed in my lap. "Where the fuck... did you learn this?"

Brendon glared at me as if to say, 'I don't know how your mother raised you, but I was taught not to talk with my mouth full,' and I let it go.

My hand tightened in his hair when I felt the tiny vibrations all along my cock as he moaned around me. I had been right; he was touching himself.

"Oh, god, Bren... c-careful...," I muttered as he brought me to the edge. I didn't want to surprise him.

He slowed down for a minute, teasing me, trying to make it last. It was amazing, something I suddenly felt like I should have thought of first. His moaning came more frequently, and the buzz of his throat made me gasp every time.

Moving the hand he had on my hip to the base of my cock, he went all out, using both his mouth and hand at once. I came then, my fingers nearly ripping the hair from his head in my tight grasp. Most of it he managed to swallow in one take, but a small amount dripped down my shaft and some trickled down his chin. I let him clean me off, but before he could get it off of his chin, I pulled him up to lick it off of him myself.

"If that wasn't the hottest thing I've ever seen you do...," he muttered against my lips, and I was thinking the same exact thing about him.

I grinned at him before throwing him down on the couch and pinning his hips down. His pants were undone already, so I simply pushed them down farther. "Then you're gonna cream really hard when I do this," I finished for him, licking up the underside of his very erect cock.

He merely stared at me, his eyes wide and mouth agape. I quickly made him change that face to a much sexier one as I took as much of him as I could into my mouth.

"Christ, Ryan... I never... maybe I should tease you more often...," he muttered, throwing his head back and placing careful hands on the back of my head. He tried to kick his pants off the rest of the way, so I helped him get them off, throwing them in the direction of my own.

I was trying to make it slow, but he kept trying to push my head down faster. When that failed, he attempted to buck up into my mouth, but I had his hips firmly pinned to the couch.

"Fuck, Ryan, stop teasing me and finish it already," he pleaded, lifting his head up to look at me.

I looked him dead in the eye as I allowed him to set the pace, relaxing my throat as much as I could to accommodate all of him. He groaned as he fucked my face, keeping eye contact with me. Suddenly, with a shocked cry that told me he didn't even expect it, he came on the downstroke, nearly choking me.

He didn't taste much different from myself and I diligently swallowed it all, trying to get every last drop.

"...Wow...," was all he could manage to say as I crawled up to him and laid my head on his chest.

He draped his arms around my back and pulled me close. I pressed my lips to his chest before looking up at him.

"Are you sober now?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "After that? Never have been less inebriated. Why?"

I bit my lip, a small grin beginning to spread across my face. "I was just wondering... just maybe... now that you're sober..."

"Out with it, Ross."

I gave a sheepish smile. "Round two?"

He bust out in a wide smile and rolled so that he could pin me against the back of the couch.

"My thoughts exactly."  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get angsty and confusing. ~~It's all Ryan's fault~~. Well, sort of.

How anyone could not notice Brendon staring at me was beyond me. He hadn't taken his eyes off of me since the beginning of the show. Well, unless he was at the piano, but other than that, his eyes were on me.

"...I've got more wit, a better kiss  
A hotter touch, a better fuck  
Than any boy you'll ever meet  
Sweetie, you _have_ me..."

I heard the subtle change to my lyrics and shivered. He was singing to me. I knew it. It had been like this ever since that night. Sure, he flirted with me a lot before then, but now...

"...Let's get these teen hearts beating  
Faster, faster..."

I suddenly realized why he had asked me to sing that part when he smirked at me. It had been almost a week.

 

" _Faster... faster, Bren..._ "

 

I could feel the heat going to my face even as I pushed the thought away. I was NOT falling for Brendon, whatever noises he managed to make me produce while doing naughty things to my body. Not that anything had happened since then.

"...Will you dance to this beat  
And hold a lover close..."

The way he sang, even though he was at the piano so he wasn't looking at me, made me feel naked. I blushed even more, glad for the excuse of overexertion.

 

" _...You're so perfect, Bren..._ "

 

Why couldn't I get his face out of my head? Okay, so we did some stuff, and yeah, it was amazing. But I didn't, you know, like him that way. I just... ugh, this was frustrating.

Brendon started up 'But It's Better If You Do' and I felt relieved. At least he couldn't subtly change a word or two and make it directed at me.

"...And isn't this exactly where you like me  
I'm exactly where you like me you know  
Praying for love in a lap dance  
And paying in naivety..."

He stood from his bench and began wandering the stage as he sang the chorus. As he passed me, he grabbed my ass with a little more meaning than he usually would and casually pecked me on the back of my neck as he went to go sit back down. I was sure my face was bright red by now, but I kept my head down and concentrated on my guitar.

 

" _...Brend-ah! Oh god... Please..._ "

 

I tried not to stumble over my words or notes as we finished the set and as we walked off stage, my feet as well. I was the first one back to the bus and I quickly stripped off my sweaty stage clothes and stepped into the shower.

I didn't even hear the door open again over the sound of the water.

"Ryan?"

I froze. Brendon couldn't see me through the glazed glass door, but he knew I was in here. I tried to ignore him.

"Ryan, I just... I wanted to apologize. I, uh... I didn't mean to make you mad... please don't be mad at me, I just really..."

"I'm not mad at you," I muttered as I rinsed off, barely loud enough to be heard over the water.

"You... you're not?"

I shut off the water and grabbed my towel, quickly getting off most of the water before wrapping it around my waist and stepping out. Brendon was standing in front of the door, his head down and his fingers clasped together. He honestly thought he had done something wrong.

"No, I'm not. Why should I be mad at you?"

He bit his lip. "Because I thought... you and me... but you..."

I stepped forward and tipped his chin up to look at me.

"You don't feel the same way I do, do you?"

I felt like a giant red-hot poker had been stabbed into my chest then, that very real sadness in his eyes eating at my insides like maggots. Brendon didn't usually cry, but damn did he look close to doing so. I felt horrible.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to make him feel better. But how could I ever tell him the truth? How could I ever admit it to myself even?

"Bren, I... I don't know how to say this..." I bit my lip, looking anywhere but his deep, soulful brown eyes. I tried to quell the nerves, the guilt, the panic. If I didn't tell him or somehow cheer him back up, I was sure that the look in his eyes would kill me.

"Then don't," he whispered, catching my eyes. "Show me."

Without further instruction, I grabbed both lapels of his jacket and pulled him into a fierce kiss, not really caring if I got him wet. His lips curved against mine in a soft smile, and he wrapped his arms around my waist.

Before I knew it, he had me shoved up against the bathroom door, attacking my neck and gently removing my towel. I pushed his jacket off, and the both of us fumbled to get the rest of his clothes off. He kicked his boots and pants off with a little bit of difficulty and immediately pressed as much of his bare skin to mine as was humanly possible.

"Oh god... Please...," I muttered in his ear as he bucked against me, his hands on my face, in my hair.

As he continued to tease me, I slid my hands down his back to his ass, which I found rather intriguing. Each cheek was plump and round, and fit exactly in the palm of my hand.

"Bren...," I groaned, squeezing his ass for emphasis. "Want... need... you..."

He exhaled against my neck, reaching out to the sink for the soap dispenser. I didn't even care if he used lube at that moment, I was just glad to feel his fingers slide inside, massaging, stretching, moving. Not that I needed much preparation; after last week, I was ready as ever.

His fingers left me after a minute, and he picked me up, pulling my legs to wrap around his hips. He let me slide down onto his cock, keeping me held up with his hands clamped under my thighs and his weight pressing me back against the door.

As he began to move, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed his waist with my legs, fearful of him dropping me even though he had a bruising grip on my thighs and I didn't really weigh that much. The door creaked with each thrust and our breath came in hushed whispers.

"Oh, god... you're so perfect, Bren..."

He groaned into my chest and his fingertips clenched harder around my thighs. I kissed the top of his head and ran my fingers up the back of his neck, tangling them in the short hairs at the back of his head. Our gasps and moans became almost song-like, and I vaguely thought about writing that down until a tongue laved at my nipple.

"Faster... faster, Bren..."

I could feel him bite his lip against my chest as he picked up the pace. His nails began to dig into my thighs, but I didn't care. The sweet pull-push of Brendon's cock inside of me was all that mattered. Brendon was all that mattered.

"Oh, fuck... Bren-ah!"

Every muscle in my body tensed and convulsed as I reached orgasm, muffling my cries in his hair. I whimpered with every thrust afterward as he finished himself off, and I could feel his hot seed filling me.

Brendon hadn't even put me down when a knock came to the door at my back. Jon's half-amused voice floated in to us as we stared at each other in horror.

"Uhm... do you guys mind? I, uh, gotta piss."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon helps Ryan with his "angst".

I had been lying in my bunk for hours with a pencil in my hand and a notebook on my bare chest. My thoughts flowed and swirled in my head like water in an intricate maze of rivers and waterfalls, but nothing of importance ever came to surface. For the first time in my life, I felt useless, finally at a loss for words. There were no words, I decided, to describe this feeling I felt, these complicated emotions jumbled together in my heart like long-forgotten toys in a dark and crowded closet. And oh, how appropriate that metaphor was.

But I couldn't admit it; to myself, to Brendon, to anyone. It was as if someone -- or something -- was physically preventing it from reaching my vocal cords and forming coherent words. Try as I might, I couldn't say it.

I sat up then, the notebook falling haphazardly into my lap and my pencil dropping to the blood red sheets. I ran my hands over my face and up into my hair. My head in my hands, I glared uselessly down at the blank page of my notebook.

He found me in that same exact position several hours later.

"Ryan? You all right?"

My neck was stiff from it being in the same position for so long and it popped loudly as I turned my head to look up at him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, letting my hands fall to my knees. "I'm just thinking."

"Have you been in here since we left?" He and the guys had gone to the mall around noon. The bus was dark, so I suspected that it was sometime after nine.

"Yeah," I nodded, averting my eyes and grinning sheepishly.

"Well, hey. We were thinking of going over to the Fall Out Boy bus for some beers with the guys. Wanna go?"

I looked back up at him then. He was staring at his feet and chewing on the inside of his lip, hands unconsciously shoved into his tight jeans' pockets. Things had been sort of awkward between us lately and I didn't blame him for being nervous.

"Not really."

His eyes flickered up to glance at me, and he nodded before beginning to walk off.

"Wait," I pleaded, leaning out of my bunk to grab his wrist. He stopped and turned to look at me, his eyes filled with that oh-so familiar mix of hurt and desperate hope.

"Hey, are you two coming or what?" Spencer called from the front of the bus.

His eyes never left mine as he spoke. "Nah, you guys go ahead. We're just gonna stay here."

I could hear Jon snickering at us and the heat rushed to my face, Brendon blushing a little as well.

"All right," Spencer replied, and the bus door slammed shut behind them.

I let go of Brendon's wrist and settled back onto my bed.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me?" he asked quietly, sitting on the edge of the bunk.

I bowed my head, my hand subconsciously going to the back of my neck. "There's a million and one things I want to tell you, Bren. I just don't know how."

He gently grabbed my chin and turned my head. He had a soft, knowing smile on his lips and he pressed them to my own in an innocent kiss. "I told you, it's okay. You don't have to say it yet."

I shook my head. "It's not okay until I say it. It doesn't feel right otherwise."

"Ry, I already know how you feel. It doesn't matter if you don't say it outright."

"It matters to me," I muttered, my head dropping into my hands again. "You just don't understand."

He crawled into my lap and forced me to look at him again. "What if I made you say it?"

"What?" I inquired, somewhat confused. "How? I don't-"

He cut me off with another, more meaningful kiss and I produced a surprised grunt in the back of my throat. He pushed us down onto the bed, his hands beginning to wander over my naked chest. I sucked a breath in through my nose when he tweaked a nipple and groaned into his mouth as he began grinding his hips against mine.

He stopped almost as soon as he had started, breaking the kiss as he sat up. He was gasping for breath with his mouth wide open, only the very corners of his lips turned upward in a devious way.

"So how about it?" he questioned, biting his lip as his eyebrows twitched up in a very sexy, very seductive and suggestive manner.

How could I deny such a face? "Do it."

His lips came down on mine again and I gasped. His mouth traveled down my neck to my chest, teasing around a nipple before taking it between his teeth.

He did the same to the other one before pulling up to tug his shirt all the way off. Lips and teeth found my neck again and he arched up to unbutton my pants with one hand.

There was a desperately frantic feel to his actions as he removed the rest of our clothing, and the charge of it in the air echoed my own desire. Perhaps it was because it had been almost a week since the bathroom scene. I shivered at the memory.

His mouth found its way down to my cock, and his talented tongue made me remember our very first encounter, half-drunk and flustered, clumsy and awkward. But this time he wasn't drunk, and this time it really did mean something.

"Bren...," I groaned, grabbing at his hair as he slowly sucked on the head of my cock.

He pulled off after a while and I grumbled at the loss of contact, but two wet fingers quickly found my entrance. He stretched me only for a little bit before pulling them out; after all, it had only been a week, and we both wanted -- needed -- this.

After coating his cock with spit, he slowly entered me with a sigh. I groaned as he moved inside of me, and he caught my lower lip between his teeth, tugging on it gently. His rhythm was slow and gentle, and I vaguely realized his intentions; _this wasn't just fucking anymore, Ryan, this was love_. This was love, Brendon's love, at its very finest.

I draped my arms around his neck and closed my eyes to the sensation, letting pleasure wash over me in silent waves. One hand cupped behind my knee, the other on my hip, he thrusted into me with purpose, each moan he forced from my lips a wordless confession to match his own.

But wordless wasn't enough, for me or for him.

As we pushed each other closer to the edge, he sat back on his heels and stilled.

"Oh, fuck, Brendon, don't stop," I begged, trying to buck against him, but he had my hips pinned firmly to the mattress.

"You have to tell me."

My heart was thrumming against my ribcage, and it wasn't just from Brendon being inside me.

"Say it or I'll pull out right now."

I bit my lip and drummed my heels against the bed in frustration. As he slowly began to pull out, I screwed my eyes shut tight.

"I... love you," I whispered.

He rewarded me with a bruising thrust, and I cried out.

"Louder," he demanded, stopping again.

"Bren... please..."

"I said louder."

"I love you," I repeated a little louder.

He gave me one more quick thrust. "I can't hear you, Ryan," he sing-songed, but the undertones sounded dangerous.

"God, I love you, Bren," I muttered even louder.

"Scream it for me."

He began to pound into me, and I obeyed.

"I love you," I yelled, digging my nails into the sheets. "Fuck, I love you so much, Bren."

It became a mantra, a waterfall of heartfelt words and a whirlpool of tangled and intermingled curses. He pushed my knees up to my chest and fucked me -- made beautiful, amazing, sweet love to me -- harder, faster, deeper.

I screamed his name as I came, my teeth sinking into his shoulder, my nails clawing at his back, several of my toes popping as they curled violently.

"I love you too, Ryan," he whispered in my ear before his orgasm wracked his body, whimpering into my neck.

He pressed shaky, tentative kisses to my face as he let go of my legs, pushing sweaty hair from my face. He slid out and we laid there for a few minutes, grinning stupidly at each other in our afterglow.

Suddenly, a cheer erupted from the front of the bus and I felt as if my stomach had dropped off the face of the earth. The wide-eyed look on Brendon's face told me he felt the same.

"It's about time you two 'fessed up!" Pete yelled from the front, and we knew everyone had heard us.

"Damnit, Jon," Brendon muttered, his sweat-dampened forehead falling against my shoulder.

I chuckled a bit, still on a high. "At least I said it though, right?"

He picked his head back up to look at me, an exhausted but contented grin plastered to his face.

"Yeah. At least you said it."  



End file.
